Unmasking Of A Lady

For at this rate, it would not be difficult.

***

The moment that the carriage cleared the trees and rambled up the drive to Atworth House was the split second when Ellen – along with her hound – abandoned her studies and ran full pelt to greet her sister. And when she saw her brother, her green eyes grew ever wider.

“You’re back!” Ellen flung her arms around the young man with no thought to his injuries. And even though she hurt him, he was pleased to see her, for no one could stay unhappy around the girl. “I have so much to tell you! Are you staying long? Please, say you are!”

She chattered on, like a miniature Aunt Georgia, asking question after question while the dog yapped around their ankles and demanded to be picked up (even if it was getting fatter, for Harriet had not been there to prevent it being entirely spoilt).

Their father, under the guise of investigating the noise, came to greet them and though he offered no harsh words, Harriet was all too aware of Giddeon’s guilt and his shame. She left them to talk, knowing that their father was too soft and too kind to ever truly be angry with his son.

As for Harriet, she needed peace – time to think, time to plan. A shadow rested upon her skin – the remnants of a man, his touch, those grey eyes that held intensity, warmth and a remedy to all the doubt she had ever felt about herself. And he was far from her reach, due to her own criminal actions. Did she want him because she could not have him? No, she was not so simple a creature as to fall for such silly fancies. She only knew that whatever she felt had to be forgotten, for her own sake and her family’s.

Though the afternoon was wearing thin and evening was only a few hours away, Harriet took her younger sister to the river with a basket packed with bread and cheese and supplies, to play and breathe the outdoor air they both so loved. Even Harriet kicked off her shoes and hitched up her skirts to paddle in the shallows – bitingly cold, but refreshing after being cooped up for so long. The water was low and the banks steep, for the unusually hot weather had chased the moisture away. Summer’s fair turn would not last, it never did, but Harriet was determined to enjoy it while she could.

There would be risks to take in the days to come, a choice to make that could undo them all.

There was no stopping Ellen from her delight. She threw sticks for Millie, barely pausing to eat, and ran around the fields with a wagging tail following her. It was freedom. When Ellen grew cold, Harriet wrapped her in the blanket she had been lying upon and promised her they would go to the river again soon. Even the dog seemed exhausted as they walked back across the fields, trailed by twilight, to warm up their chilled skin inside.

“I almost forgot,” said Harriet, after they were sat by the drawing room’s fire, with Ellen half asleep as she listened to her sister read. “I bought you a present. I shall give it to you tomorrow morning.”

Though filled with slumber, the words roused the youngest of the pair. “Present?”

“Two matching ribbons for you and Millie: one for her collar and the other for your hair.”

Ellen smiled into her sister’s skirts, mumbling thanks and looking far too young to deal with all that the future would throw at her.

***

Sunday dawned, a dry morning that swept up the dew and promised another warm day with a cloudless blue dome above. Up past the river and over a cart bridge sat the nearby village and its parish church. A service would begin soon and the bells had already tolled, summoning those who lived nearby. The Groves family disturbed jumpy rabbits, looping swifts and darting swallows on their journey there – a short walk that got the blood flowing and put colour into their cheeks. Giddeon walked ahead, his recovery going well as he strode hand in hand with Ellen, fists swinging as they chattered and laughed.

Harriet walked with her father, her arm hooked into his, both with a solemn air. Mr Groves cleared his throat lightly and Harriet steeled herself for the conversation. She knew all he would say, for they were of the same ilk, the same sensibility, the same practicality. As if feeling her muscles tense, her father released a weary sigh.

“I know you loathe this subject, but your marriage to a good, wealthy family would see off our troubles,” he began, voice soft and tired with age. “I am not long for this world and – ”

“That is nonsense, Father,” said Harriet quickly, plucking yellowed grass from her sleeve, as though she could cast aside his words so easily. She had lost one parent not so long ago; she hated the prospect of losing another.

“No,” he replied firmly, grasping her hand that was still nestled in his arm. “You must listen to your Aunt Georgia and I, for what I say is not to hurt you, only to ensure that you are safe and happy.”

A few mutinous curls crept from Harriet’s hair, falling down from the cover of her bonnet as she shook her head. “What you suggest cannot lead to happiness.”

“It would lead to security and that, in turn, can bring some contentment,” argued her father. “You know what Aunt Georgia says about you? That you are far too independent. She blames me for it and perhaps she is right.”

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